Spells (22 page)

Laurel turned away, her head aching. “You can’t, Tam.”

“What would you have me do instead?” he asked, his voice so raw and vulnerable it was all she could do to keep looking at him.

“Just…wait.”

“For what! For your parents to die? For David to die? What am I waiting for, Laurel?” he asked, his voice plaintive.

Laurel turned and started walking again, trying desperately to leave his words behind. She topped a steep hill and instead of seeing a slew of faerie homes, she looked out onto a pure white beach with sapphire blue waves lapping at the shore. Something was off about that—it didn’t
smell
like the ocean—but she couldn’t turn around, Tamani was behind her. So she kept going, her feet slow in the glittering, crystalline sand.

She crossed her arms over her chest as she stopped. She’d reached the water. There was nowhere else to go. The wind blew at her hair, throwing it back from her face. “I don’t like having you so far away,” Tamani said after a long pause. His voice sounded normal again, without the bitter edge. “I worry. I know you’ve got guards, but…I liked it better when you were at the land. I don’t like trusting other faeries with your life. I wish…I wish I could come out and do it myself.”

Laurel was already shaking her head. “It wouldn’t work,” she said firmly.

“You don’t think I could do a good enough job?” Tamani asked, looking at her with a seriousness Laurel disliked.

“It wouldn’t work,” she repeated, knowing her reasoning was very different from Tamani’s.

“You just don’t want me in your human world,” Tamani said quietly, his words carried to her on the light breeze.

The truth of the whispered accusation stung, and Laurel turned away from him.

“You’re afraid that if I was part of your human life you might actually have to make a real decision. Right now you have the best of both worlds. You get your
David
.” He spoke the name scornfully, anger creeping into his tone. It was better than the pain she heard in his voice before. She almost wished he’d just yell. Anger was so much easier than sadness, hurt. “And then you come out here and have me whenever you want me. I’m at your beck and call, and you know it. Do you ever consider how that makes me feel? Every time you leave—go back to him—you tear up my emotions all over again. Sometimes…” He sighed. “Sometimes I wish you would just stop coming around.” He let out a frustrated growl. “No, I don’t actually want that, but, I just…it’s so hard when you leave, Laurel. I wish you could see that.”

A tear slipped down Laurel’s cheek, but she rubbed it away, forcing herself to remain calm. “I can’t stay,” she said, happy that her voice was solid, strong. “If I come here…
every time
I come here…I have to leave, eventually. Maybe it would be better for you if I stopped coming back at all—easier.”

“You have to come back,” Tamani said, concern laced through his voice. “You have to learn to be a Fall faerie. It’s your birthright. Your destiny.”

“I know enough to get me through for a while,” Laurel insisted. “What I need now is practice, and I can do that from home.” Her hands shook, but she folded her arms across her chest, trying to hide it.

“That’s not the plan,” Tamani said, his voice just short of a reprimand. “You have to come back regularly.”

Laurel forced herself to speak calmly, coolly. “No, Tamani. I don’t.”

Their eyes met, and neither seemed able to look away.

Laurel gave in first. “I have to go. It’s better for me to be in my house after dark. I need you to take me to the gate.”

“Laurel—”

“The gate!” Laurel ordered, knowing she couldn’t bear to hear whatever he was going to say. Somehow she’d spoiled their whole day, and now all she wanted was to end it.

Tamani stiffened, but there was defeat on his face. Laurel turned away from it. She couldn’t look. He put his hand at her back and prodded her forward, his fingers at her waist, guiding her from his position one step behind her.

When they reached the stone walls that surrounded the gates, Tamani made a hand signal to the guards standing at the entrance and one of them left at a run.

After a few seconds Tamani spoke. “I—I just want you to be safe,” he said apologetically.

“I know,” Laurel murmured.

“What about that Klea person?” Tamani asked. “Have you seen her again?”

Laurel shook her head. “I told you I wasn’t sure if I could trust her.”

“Does she know about you?” Tamani said, turning sharply to face her. “Does she have any idea you’re a faerie?”

“Yes, Tamani. I spilled everything to her the instant I met her,” Laurel said sarcastically. “No, of course she doesn’t! I’ve been very careful—”

“Because the second she finds out,” he continued, talking over her again, “the
instant
she knows, your life is in jeopardy.”

“She doesn’t know,” Laurel yelled, drawing the attention of the guards. But she didn’t care. “And even if she did, then what? Is she going to change her mind and start trying to kill me instead? I don’t think so.” It was strange to be arguing the opposite side she’d taken with David a few weeks ago, but logic seemed to be slipping away. “I’m fine!” she said in exasperation.

Their heads both turned as the sound of footsteps approached—a group of guards. Tamani’s head dropped and he stepped backward, taking his place at Laurel’s shoulder. But she could hear his breath heavy with frustration.

The group of soldiers parted to reveal Yasmine, the young Winter faerie.

“Oh,” Laurel said, surprised. “I thought they would send…someone else,” she finished lamely when the girl’s soft green eyes turned to her.

Yasmine said nothing, just turned toward the wall.

“Can she open it by herself?” Laurel whispered to Tamani.

“Of course,” Tamani said, his tone clipped. “It’s not a skill. You just have to be a Winter faerie.”

Sentries led them down the path to the four gates. Tamani followed silently behind Laurel, not touching her at all. Laurel hated being like this with him, but she didn’t know what else to do. Her two worlds, two lives that she tried so hard to keep separate, were crashing together. And she felt helpless to stop it.

SILENT AND BROODING, LAUREL AND TAMANI
passed through the gateway. The familiar brigade of sentries greeted them. Shar stepped forward and glared at Laurel as he addressed Tamani. “We have a visitor.”

“Trolls?” Tamani stiffened and pushed Laurel back toward the sparkling gate. “Laurel, back to Avalon.”

Shar rolled his eyes. “Not trolls, Tam. Do you think we’d have let you through if there were trolls waiting?”

Tamani sighed and dropped his hands. “Of course not. I didn’t think.”

“It’s the human boy. The one who was here last autumn.”

“David?” Laurel said, her voice weak.
How did he find out?

Shar nodded as Tamani’s jaw stiffened. “I’ll take her to him,” Tamani said, stepping forward. “Where is he?”

“He’s keeping his distance,” Shar said, gesturing vaguely with his head. “Out by the house.”

“I’ll be back,” Tamani said, wrapping his hand around Laurel’s upper arm and pulling her in the direction of the cabin. As soon as they were out of sight of the gate, he dropped his arm.

“I want to talk to him,” Tamani said, his voice low.

“No!” Laurel insisted. “You can’t.”

“I want to know what he’s doing to help keep you safe,” Tamani said, not meeting her eyes. “That’s all.”

“Absolutely not,” Laurel said through clenched teeth.

“How much are you going to throw away over David?” Tamani asked, exasperated. “Me, obviously. But what else? Your life? Your parents’ lives? Even David’s life, so I don’t come in and put a hitch in your little romance? I just want to talk to him.”

“You want to intimidate him. Threaten his position. I
know
you, Tamani.”

“I may as well, since he’s here,” Tamani growled, glancing up the path.

“I didn’t ask him to come,” Laurel said, not quite sure why she felt compelled to justify herself.

Tamani was silent.

“He shouldn’t be off work yet. He shouldn’t even know I’m here.”

Tamani stopped abruptly and turned. “You lied to him?” His face was unreadable.

“I—”

“You
lied
to him to come out and see me?” Tamani laughed. “You lied for me. I feel special.” His voice was sharp and harsh, but there was something else behind it. Appreciation. Satisfaction.

Laurel scoffed and started to walk away. “Don’t even think that; it wasn’t for you.”

Tamani grabbed her arm and whirled her around so quickly she stumbled forward against his chest. He didn’t try to embrace her, just held her arms as she stood sprawled across him. “Wasn’t it? Tell me you don’t love me.”

Laurel’s mouth moved, but she said nothing.

“Tell me,” he said, his voice sharp and demanding. “Tell me David is all you need or want in your life.” His face was close to her, his soft breath caressing her face. “That you never think of me when you’re kissing him. That you don’t dream about me the way I dream about you. Tell me you don’t love me.”

She looked up at him, desperation consuming her. Her mouth felt dry, parched, and the words she tried to force out wouldn’t come.

“You can’t even say it,” he said, his arms pulling her in now instead of holding her steady. “Then love me, Laurel. Just
love
me!”

His face was filled with a yearning she could hardly bear. She couldn’t leave him again. Not like this—not now that he knew. Why couldn’t she hide it better? Why did she keep coming back when she couldn’t stay? It was hurting
him
more than it was hurting her. How was that love? Love wasn’t supposed to be selfish.

His lips were on her face now, in her hair. It was as if every emotion he had stifled, every temptation he’d resisted, had burst forth like a roaring river. And the current threatened to carry her away.

She forced herself to open her eyes. It didn’t matter what she felt—she couldn’t be with him. Not now. As long as she lived in the human world anything with Tamani would only be halfway. She would hate it and—even though she knew he would disagree—eventually, he would resent her for it. She wasn’t ready to leave her human life behind. She wanted to graduate from high school and decide for herself what to do after that. She had family and friends and a life to live—a life she couldn’t live with Tamani. She closed her eyes again, forcing away the dream of him. It wouldn’t be a dream; it wouldn’t have a happy ending. She had to send him away.

It was now or never.

“I don’t love you,” she whispered, almost losing her nerve with his mouth against her neck.

“Yes, Laurel, you do,” he whispered, his lips brushing her ear now.

“I don’t,” she said, her voice stronger now, finally accepting what had to be done. She put both hands on his chest and pressed back firmly. “I don’t love you. I have to go back. And you are
not
coming with me.”

She turned before she could change her mind.

“Laurel—”

“No! I said I don’t love you. I…I hardly even know you, Tamani. A handful of afternoons, a trip to a festival—that doesn’t equal love!” she insisted. She didn’t know what else to do. He was right; leaving him with hope for their future every time she saw him was cruel. Unspeakably cruel. She had to make him believe it wouldn’t happen. It would hurt less in the long run. “I’m going to see David,” she said, hurling the last of her ammunition at him and turning before she could see his reaction. She wasn’t sure she could bear it.

She walked toward the cabin, expecting Tamani to stop at any moment. But at the edge of the forest, he was still right on her tail. “Stop following me,” she hissed.

“I don’t think you’re in any position to order me around,” he said tersely.

They broke from the tree line together, Tamani just behind Laurel’s left shoulder. Laurel’s eyes met David’s instantly…a second before he saw Tamani. His eyes went back to her again, full of hurt and accusation. He scooted off the trunk of her Sentra and started to walk toward his car.

“David!” Laurel called, lifting her foot to run.

Tamani’s hand shot out and grabbed her wrist. He pulled her around and before she could protest, his lips came down hard against hers, his kiss urgent and demanding and full of a heat that swept Laurel up for two seconds before she pushed him violently away.

She looked toward David, hoping he had missed it.

He was staring right at them.

David’s and Tamani’s eyes met and locked.

Tamani still had a hold of Laurel’s wrist. She yanked it away. “Go away,” she said. “I want you to just go!” Her voice was starting to tremble. “I mean it!” she yelled. “Go!”

His face was tense, his jaw flexed as he stared at her. She could hardly stand to meet his eyes. They were an ocean of betrayal. They probed her, searching for the smallest sign that she didn’t mean it. That spark of hope that never seemed to go out.

She refused to drop her gaze. It was better this way. Someday maybe…she couldn’t even think about it. He had to go. He had to leave. It wasn’t fair to keep going on like this.

Please leave,
she thought desperately.
Please go before I change my mind. Go.

As if hearing her silent thoughts, Tamani turned without a word and walked silently into the trees, disappearing before her eyes.

Laurel couldn’t look away from the spot where Tamani had been just a second earlier. She knew she needed to. The longer she kept looking the harder things were going to be with David.

She ripped her eyes away. David was already at his car door.

“David!” she called. “David, wait!” He paused but didn’t turn to her. “David, don’t go.”

“Why not?” he asked, his eyes locked on the driver’s seat, refusing to look at her face. “I saw what happened. All that’s left is for me to imagine what I
didn’t
see.”

“It wasn’t like that,” she said, guilt and shame pounding through her.

“Wasn’t it?” He turned now and faced her, his expression flat. If he had looked sad, or even angry, she could have accepted that. But he looked neutral, like he didn’t care at all.

“No,” she said, but her voice was quiet.

“Then what was it like, Laurel? Because I’ll tell you how things look from my point of view. You lied to me to come out and see him, to be with
him
!”

“I didn’t lie,” Laurel protested weakly.

“You didn’t say the words, but you lied all the same.” He paused, his jaw clenched, his hands tense on the car door. “I trusted you, Laurel. I have always trusted you. And just because you didn’t actually tell me a lie doesn’t mean you didn’t break my trust.” He looked up at her. “I got off work early because I was worried about you. I was afraid for you. And when your mom told me you were at Chelsea’s I called her and she didn’t have any idea what I was talking about. And you know what my next thought was? That you were dead, Laurel! I thought you were dead!”

Laurel remembered having the same thoughts about David on Monday and looked down at her feet, ashamed.

“And then I realized that there was one place—one
person
,” he said scornfully, “who you would sneak off to go see. And I come out here to make sure you’re safe and I find you kissing him!”

“I wasn’t kissing him!” Laurel yelled. “He was kissing me.”

David was silent, his jaw muscles working furiously. “Maybe this time,” he said, his voice steely. “But I saw the way he kissed you, and I promise you, that wasn’t the first time. Go ahead, deny it. I’m listening.”

She looked at the ground, the car, the trees, anywhere but at those accusing eyes.

“I knew it. I
knew
it!”

He slipped into the driver’s seat and slammed the door, his engine roaring immediately to life. He backed up quickly, just missing Laurel as she stood rooted to the ground, unable to move. He rolled down his window. “I don’t…” He paused, the only sign of weakness he’d shown the entire conversation. “I don’t want to see you for a while. Don’t call. When…if I decide I’m ready, I’ll find you.”

Laurel watched him drive away, finally letting her tears come. For a second she glanced back at the trees, but there was nothing there for her either. She slid into her car and let her forehead fall against the steering wheel, sobbing. How had everything gone so wrong?

Laurel sat on her bed, her guitar on her lap, watching the shadows that danced across her ceiling. She’d been sitting there for two hours as the sun sank and the room darkened, playing random melancholy chords that—no matter how much she tried—were strangely reminiscent of the music she’d heard earlier that day, in Avalon.

This morning her life was good—no, great! Now? She had destroyed everything.

And it was her own fault. She had spent too long straddling the fence. She had let her attraction to Tamani get out of hand. It wasn’t enough to be faithful to David physically, he deserved her emotional fidelity, too.

She thought of the look on Tamani’s face when she told him she didn’t love him; this wasn’t fair to him, either. She had been hurting everyone, and now there were consequences.

The thought of living out the rest of her life—even the rest of the week—without David made everything inside her hurt. She imagined seeing him with another girl. Kissing someone else the way Tamani had kissed her today. She groaned and rolled onto her side, letting her guitar slide onto the bedspread beside her. It would be like the end of the world. She couldn’t let that happen. There had to be a way to make things right.

But two hours of thinking hadn’t given her any ideas. She just had to hope that he would forgive her. Eventually.

She tried to drift off to sleep. Usually it was easy, once the sun went down, but today all she could do was sit and watch the numbers change on her alarm clock as the darkness enveloped her.

8:22

8:23

8:24

Laurel went downstairs. Her parents always did inventory on Saturday nights and wouldn’t be back for another hour at least. She opened the fridge, more out of habit than hunger—no way she could eat at a time like this. She closed the fridge and let herself blame David and Tamani a little. She didn’t want to hurt either of them, she wanted them both to be happy. They were both important in her life. Why did they keep insisting that she choose between them?

A movement in the yard caught her eye, but before she could focus in on it the picture window shattered, sending shards of glass skittering across the floor as Laurel’s scream filled the air and she dropped into a crouch, hands protecting her face. But as soon as she closed her mouth, the room was deathly silent; no shouts, no more rocks, not even footsteps.

Laurel gazed at the shards of glass littering the kitchen floor. Her eyes settled on the large rock that must have come through the window.

A piece of paper was wrapped around it.

Laurel reached out with trembling hands and unwrapped the paper. Her breath caught in her chest as she read the bright red scrawl.

In an instant she was on her feet, running for the front door. As she threw the door open she paused, peering out into her front yard. It looked calm—serene even—under the glow of the streetlights. Laurel studied every shadowed form, looking for tiny shivers of movement.

Everything stood still.

She looked at her car, and back down at the paper in her hand. Tamani was right—she kept trying to do everything on her own. It was time to admit she needed help. She turned and began running, not to her car, but to the tree line behind her house. She paused at the edge of the forest, not sure how far the warding reached. After a moment’s hesitation she started to shout. “Help! Please! I need your help!”

She ran along the tree line to the other side of the yard, shouting her pleas over and over. But she heard nothing except her own words echoing back at her. “Please!” she shouted one more time, knowing she wouldn’t get an answer.

The sentries were gone. She didn’t know where or when, but if a single faerie had been in those woods, she felt certain they would have answered her call. She was alone.